The Game Where I Lost My Last Finger And Him Chapter 08

The Game Where I Lost My Last Finger And Him Chapter 08

Severe sun exposure, plus heatstroke. 

When the hospital called me, I was holding a bowl of shaved 

ice. 

I stood there for a long time before setting it down and buying a flight home. 

I did not go to the hospital. 

At the security checkpoint, I only sent him one message. 

[Stop following me.] 

By the time my plane landed, there were seventeen new messages and five missed calls on my phone. 

All from Ethan. 

The last message said: [Audrey, are you really not coming to see me? Not even once?] 

I did not reply. 

September at South Coast was still heavy with late–summer 

heat. 

When I dragged my suitcase through the gates of South Coast University, a strange feeling rose in my chest. 

The trees here were tall, the roads were wide, and everywhere I looked, there were fresh faces just like mine. 

No one knew my past. 

No one had already decided what kind of person I was. 

I took a deep breath and smiled. 

During the ROTC–style freshman orientation camp, I stood at attention until my legs trembled, but I gritted my teeth and 

held on. 

During the chant competition, I shouted so loudly that even the instructors laughed. 

At target practice, I scored forty–six out of fifty with five 

shots, the highest score in my group. 

My roommate grabbed my arm and said, “Audrey, you’re seriously amazing.” 

After school started, my days became busy and full. 

I printed the photo I had taken in Lake Tahoe and tucked it 

into the base of my desk lamp. 

In the photo, the lake had been dyed orange–red by the sunset, 

and I stood by the water, smiling so hard my eyes nearly disappeared. 

That was the first day I felt alive again. 

Ethan’s messages never stopped. 

[Audrey, I sent you some snacks. Remember to pick them up.] 

[Is South Coast hot? Don’t get heatstroke.] 

[I saw a stray cat today. It looked just like the one you used to 

have.] 

[Audrey, answer me once. Just once.] 

I blocked him and got a new phone number. 

When his packages arrived, I looked at the sender’s name and 

returned them unopened. 

Every time he sent one, I sent it back. 

Later, he stopped sending packages. 

Instead, he came in person. 

During a break, he traveled twelve hours to South Coast and 

stood downstairs from my dorm, holding a bouquet of flowers. 

When I came back from the library and saw him, my steps paused for the briefest moment. 

Then I walked past him without expression. 

“Audrey.” 

He hurried after me. 

I did not stop. 

“I’ll only stay for two days. Can you just talk to me for a little 

while?” 

I swiped my student ID and entered the dorm. 

The door closed in his face. 

He still did not leave. 

He stood downstairs the entire night. 

The next morning, when I pulled open the curtains, he was 

sitting by the flower bed below, holding that wilted bouquet 

with his head lowered. 

I gave him three seconds. 

Then I closed the curtains. 

During winter break, he came again. 

Winter at South Coast was damp and cold. 

He wore only a thin jacket, and his lips were purple from the 

cold. 

When I came out of the academic building, I saw him standing 

in the rain. 

I opened my umbrella and walked past him. 

The edge of the umbrella brushed his shoulder, but he did not 

reach out to stop me. 

He only stood there in the rain, watching my back disappear 

through the campus gate. 

Later, my roommate asked, “Who was that guy? He’s really handsome. He’s been waiting downstairs for you for days.” 

I said, “I don’t know him.” 

In the fall of my sophomore year, I started dating someone. 

His name was Caleb Morgan, and he was gentle. 

Caleb was not Ethan. 

He did not say beautiful things or make grand promises, but when I studied late into the night, he brought me a cup of 

warm milk. 

When I had cramps, he remembered to bring ginger tea and a heating pad. 

When I was upset, he never pressed me with questions. He only stayed quietly beside me.